


The Black Heir

by Silancio



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, Hermione is Regulus' Daughter, Pureblood Hermione Granger, Regulus is Fleur's uncle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-08-19 23:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20218141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silancio/pseuds/Silancio
Summary: Regulus Black: A pureblood wizard. The Heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. A husband. A teenager. A Death Eater. Desire for revenge leads him right into the Dark Lord's arms, and allows him to cross the boundaries that once crossed cannot be undone. All actions have consequencs and now it's time for him to pay for his sins. So his unborn child can be proud of him.





	1. Chapter 1

Regulus Arcturus Black was everything – and so much more – an aristocratic, pureblood family could expect from its future Head of House. He was a charming young man of extraordinary beauty, an incomparably accomplished wizard, but most importantly – Regulus wholeheartedly cherished the belief of supremacy of pureblood wizards over anyone else. His deep-rooted prejudice resulted in him joining the ranks of Lord Voldemort and receiving his Dark Mark. That included accepting as much of the responsibilities as he could take without raising the suspicions of his Hogwarts’ professors. Regulus was barely sixteen years old when he was recruited, but he contented to everything with the greatest dignity. He wanted to protect his people from the threat the Muggles and Muggle-borns caused. No matter the cost.

His parents – and, naturally, his eldest cousin Bellatrix Lestrange who was already, despite her young age, the Dark Lord’s lieutenant and who took pride in introducing him to her Master – were so proud when he announced to them that he was welcomed among the wizard’s followers. His cousin told them many incredible and fascinating stories about Lord Voldemort, so the idea that their beloved heir was fighting for the right cause filled their hearts with immense pride. Especially since their other child was the cause of great sorrow.

Regulus used to have an older brother. Sirius, who was an exceptionally talented wizard in his own right and who was even more handsome than he was, was still very much alive. To Regulus though, he was already dead. The older Black boy was disowned by their mother as soon as he ran away from their family home. Sirius dared to disgrace their noble name by associating himself with Mudbloods as he believed that they were equal with purebloods and that blood purity was good for nothing. He had no reasons to be listed among the _proper_ members of their family anymore. Regulus was also furious and regretted deeply that the older wizard was able to dodge his curse. A blood traitor like him simply didn’t deserve to live.

“You’re nothing but a bloody fool,” he recalled himself hissing the words as soon as his mother excused herself from the hall, watching with deep satisfaction and hatred as the teenager's name slowly disappeared from the tapestry. The woman was so mad and heartbroken that she went to grab a bottle of Firewhiskey and drown her sorrows into it, not even being able to observe the process of disownment of her first-born child. “Are you proud of yourself that you’ve managed to break Mother’s heart? How could you choose the blood traitors over your own family! You better pray the Potters treat you well because I’m going to make you pay for your betrayal!”

“And pay he indeed will,” agreed a familiar, albeit unexpected, female voice. He immediately turned his head and saw a beautiful young woman in her early twenties who was leaning against the door frame. She had messy black hair and her dark eyes were full of contempt. “If that makes you happy, I _will_ personally deliver his head to Aunt Walburga.”

“No,” he snapped suddenly, and his pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment when his cousin raised her perfect eyebrow at him. Regulus averted his gaze as he was aware that Bellatrix didn’t approve of being spoken to in such a tone. “Sorry. I appreciate your offer as I want to see him dead. But… this blood traitor is _mine_. I want to be the one who’s going to end his life, though, I want to make him suffer before this happens. A pathetic piece of scum like him doesn’t deserve any mercy.”

“That’s the spirit, Reggie,” the witch chuckled darkly and closed the distance between them. Then she hugged him warmly from behind, put her chin on his right shoulder and looked at his ex-brother’s name with disgust before she focused on yet another burned face. Her younger sister Andromeda was disowned a few years ago because she married a Mudblood. “I know some very deliciously forbidden curses that we can use on these blood traitors to teach them a lesson. Trust me, dear cousin, that the Cruciatus Curse, albeit utterly incredible, is like the Tickling Charm in comparison to them.”

Regulus shivered with excitement at Bellatrix’s husky voice. She had always been his favourite cousin. She was the eldest among their generation of the Blacks – she was ten years his senior – and the other children always looked up to her. She was a model daughter. She always held herself with grace. She was the best student in her year. She was an accomplished duellist and her wand movement was a pure art. The youngest Black adored watching her cast spells and curses as she reminded him of an artist creating their greatest masterpiece. He aspired to be just like her.

“Will you teach me, please?” he whispered and turned to face her, momentarily focusing his eyes on her left forearm. Bellatrix wore a black dress with long sleeves but they both knew what was hidden beneath it: the Dark Mark. The witch joined the man known as Lord Voldemort soon after her graduation from Hogwarts and he took her under his wings. He opened the doors that had previously been closed even to the dark families like theirs. “Teach me every dark curse and spell you know, and I promise you that when I’m old enough, I _will_ join your Master and help him to get rid of all Mudbloods from our world.”

A small smirk began to form on his cousin’s full, red lips and Regulus held his breath when flames of madness made and appearance in her eyes. Besides, she bent over and almost pressed her mouth to his ear.

“I will teach you, baby cousin of mine, as long as you promise to be a good boy and do as I say without any complaints,” she started in a musical voice. He swallowed as such a tone never meant anything good. “Disobey me and there will be severe punishment. I’m not going to waste my time if you’re not serious about this. Understood?”

“Yes,” he responded hastily. He wanted her to be proud of him. “I won’t disappoint you. I promise.”

And so, she taught him.

He had spent the rest of the summer holiday training under Bellatrix’s firm hand. She was a tyrant and a perfectionist. She forced him to train day and night improving his skills, allowing him to take only three short breaks to grab something to eat. He once dared to complain that he was exhausted and she, in accordance with her promise, disciplined him for that. She put him under the Cruciatus Curse and didn’t release him until she became bored of his screams. He learned his lesson, though, and since then he was a perfect student.

When he returned to Hogwarts to begin his fourth year, he was a changed boy. He was more withdrawn and barely spoke with his friends. Everyone assumed that it was because of what happened between Sirius and his family and he didn’t bother to correct them, even though the truth was different. He spent every single moment in an abandoned classroom in the dungeons where he practiced what his cousin taught him. His traitor brother was still at school with him, so he imagined that he was using the curses on him.

When he turned sixteen, Bellatrix took him to her Master who welcomed him in his ranks with open arms. Lestrange was his most faithful and devoted Death Eater, so it was assumed that he would follow in her footsteps. That day Regulus had a feeling that all of his dreams had come true. Lord Voldemort was… he was unable to find the right words to describe him. The man was _everything_. He was incredibly powerful – the young Black dared to say that the man was even more powerful than Dumbledore himself – and he was handsome. He was inspiring. He was… Lord Voldemort simply was and that was enough for him. Even breathing seemed to be much simpler when he was in the presence of the wizard.

However, a few things have changed since he became a Death Eater.

During the summer holiday before his last year at Hogwarts, at the age of seventeen, he got married to a French pureblood witch. Charlotte Delacour was a member of a very influential French family and the union between their houses would be highly beneficial for both parties. The girl was born the same year as he was, but she had never attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic as she was home-schooled her entire life.

His wife was an extremely intelligent and beautiful young woman, and he was aware that many wizards were jealous of him and considered him a lucky man. He, on the other hand, thought something else. For him, the marriage was a punishment for some crimes he had no idea he had ever committed.

Regulus had known Charlotte for years before they tied the knot and there was even a time when he was enchanted by her but… everything changed when Sirius was disowned. His wife was supposed to marry the first-born son of Orion Black – his father – and that would be his brother. He was required to take his place to honour the contract.

He was furious when he was informed what was expected from him. He bluntly expressed his disagreement and agreed on the marriage only because his grandfather Arcturus Black, Duke of Lancaster, who at that time was the Head of their family, took him aside and threatened to disown him if he dared to disobey his orders. 

Disown him!

He had always been a model son and a member of their noble family. He had never dared to do anything against his Patriarch’s wishes. And yet, he was threatened with disownment only because his traitor of a brother neglected his responsibilities and chose the Mudbloods over his flesh and blood. He wanted to scream into oblivion and curse everyone around him. Fortunately, he was approached by Bellatrix who shared with him her words of wisdom.

“You must show her who’s the boss in the relationship,” she informed him matter-of-factly as soon as he had finished his tirade and she then took a sip of her Firewhiskey. “You must set certain boundaries and let her know what she can and cannot do.”

“And how am I supposed to do this?” he asked with a scorn and grabbed his own glass. “Put her under the Imperius Curse? Grandfather would definitely notice it and then he would disown me for sure. He really cares about the union between the families.”

“Putting the daughter of a respected Lord of a foreign country under the Imperious Curse would indeed be a stupid move, yes,” the witch agreed, and a cruel smirk made an appearance on her lips. “However, what I meant was intimidation. You must show her your strength. You must let her know that she’s nobody without you. Dominate her mentally, physically and, of course – sexually.”

“Did you… do the same with Rodolphus?” he hesitantly asked. His cousin’s husband was a very formidable wizard, but when he was in the presence of his wife, he always reminded him of a harmless puppy.

“What else did you expect, Reggie?” she asked with amusement and gently patted his hand. “The House of Black is the most powerful house in Britain. Did you really think that I would allow such a weak man to control my life?”

He unconsciously shook his head. Bellatrix was absolutely right. She must have been a fool to let her husband tell her what to do. The Blacks were the elite of the elite and everyone was aware of that. While in some other noble families – the Malfoys and the Lestranges immediately came to his mind due to his cousins’ marriages – the Head of Houses were titled as Earls, commonly referred to as “Lords,” then the Head of the House of Black was known as the Duke of Lancaster. The Muggles lived under a false assumption that the title of the Duke of Lancaster was always held by the current ruler of the British Monarchy (especially since it was merged with the Crown in the 14th century) but it wasn’t true. The Duchy of Lancaster, since the dawn of times, belonged to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. The Black bloodline had always been present in the British Royal family, as when wizards were forced into hiding the family married their Squibs into royalty to protect their families assets. Serving the family was a sacred thing to the House of Black, therefore, to erase their stain on their honour, the Squibs provided the family with security against the Muggles. Of course, all security measures were taken to make sure that the unmagical blood wouldn’t affect the continuality of their pure blood – magical and social disownment among them.

Regulus rubbed his forehead. Even the Dark Lord seemed to know that the Blacks are untouchable. The wizard had no problems with punishing his followers whenever they annoyed him, but he had never done anything to his cousin. What else, he respected her opinions and _confided_ in her!

“Do as I told you, dear baby cousin of mine, and I promise you that the chit won’t even breathe without your explicit permission,” she continued and emptied her glass. “But if you’re not able to do this, then I’ll gladly take care of her.”

Regulus cringed at that. He wasn’t exactly sure what Bellatrix was doing – even though he had his suspicions – but when the Dark Lord needed to extract information from an exceptionally uncooperative opponent, he would call his cousin and she would take the person with her, and a few minutes later she would have all of the information he wanted.

“I appreciate your offer but…” He took a deep breath and looked at his interlocutor. “I know she used to be in contact with Sirius – and I think that she still is – and most likely still has some feelings for him but… I want her to be _obedient_, not _traumatized_ for life.”

The woman simply shrugged and looked at her well-groomed nails.

“Do as you please. Just remember that I’m more than willing to put her in her place if you’re unable to do it.”

The youngest Black listened to his cousin and did as she advised him. He never dared to hit his wife, but he let her know from the very beginning that in his eyes she was inferior. During the wedding night, since the marriage required consummation, Regulus _claimed_ what was lawfully his and didn’t even bother to ask Charlotte if she was all right afterwards. He was everything but gentle and loving back then, but he didn’t even care that he had ruined her first time.

Or any other for that matter, as they were sharing the bed only when he wanted to relieve himself. He made it obvious that she knew that now she belonged to him and not to his traitorous brother as she was supposed to.

When the summer holiday came to an end, Regulus was pleased. It was his last year at school and he awaited graduation because it would mean that he could commit himself fully to the Dark Lord’s services. He was the youngest Death Eater in the ranks – his school friend Severus Snape was a year older than him and already graduated – so he was unable to do much as most of the time he was at Hogwarts. Also, because he recently got married, he was _asked_ to spend as much of his free time with his wife so he could provide the next follower. Regulus had no clue what he did to offend his Master to be punished in such a cruel way, but he was truly sorry for whatever it was.

However, by the time he was ready to accomplish his education, Regulus’ life turned upside down.

Arcturus Black had perished unexpectedly in early October and his father became the new Head of House and the Duke of Lancaster, which meant that Regulus was next in line for the titles. Obviously, he was aware that sooner or later he would become the heir apparent – especially since Sirius was out of the picture – but he had never thought that it would happen so suddenly. His grandfather was a man of good health, so his death took everyone by surprise.

Nonetheless, the biggest change happened in December – he finally realised what kind of idiot he really was.

Lord Voldemort summoned his followers for a meeting. A Christmas celebration. The Black Heir was eager to attend the assembly because he desperately craved his Master's presence. He noticed during his Hogwarts days that the longer he was away from the wizard, the more he thought about him and about the many ways in which he could impress him. His wife, of course, wasn’t thrilled by such a turn of events but she knew more than well that it was pointless to say anything. He made it clear to her that she should never question his choices.

At the beginning of the meeting, the wizard asked for a house-elf, so he, unsurprisingly, offered his beloved one – Kreacher – without hesitation. He was as proud as a peacock when his Master decided to take his servant, especially when he noticed that other owners of the house-elves looked at him with envy. Still, the boy’s satisfaction was short-lived because a moment later the Dark Lord announced the other reason of their summon, he wanted to award his faithful Death Eaters by giving them something special.

This “something” turned out to be a person. A young pureblood witch by the name of Annabelle Shafiq. A Ravenclaw girl in his year at school. The Black Heir was flabbergasted when his cheerful cousin brought her inside the room because he had no idea what was going on. But one thing was certain: he was terrified to see the girl beaten and tied up.

“Thank you for your help, Bellatrix,” said Lord Voldemort and turned towards the rest of his followers as soon as his cousin approached him and threw the girl at his feet. “Gentlemen… let me introduce you to Miss Annabelle Shafiq. Her father recently refused to support our goal, so this young lady is going to pay for his insubordination… I hope you’re going to enjoy yourself with her. Regulus, my dear boy, you stay away from it. I have a different task for you this evening. Bella will explain it to you shortly.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” he answered and bowed slightly.

He didn’t want to admit it aloud, but he was relieved when he heard the order. Annabelle was his Herbology partner and even though she was a pretty witch, he had no desire to sleep with her. Especially since he didn't have the right to do that. Moreover, watching as the others decided amongst themselves who was going to take her first was something he would rather avoid.

Lucius Malfoy, the husband of his other cousin, Narcissa, was the one who won the inglorious lottery. Regulus was aware that it wasn’t the right moment to think about it, but he wondered if his wife was aware what her husband was doing when she wasn’t around. He glanced at Bellatrix who stood next to the Dark Lord’s throne and watched with an unpleasant smile as her brother-in-law forced himself on the already naked girl. Apparently, when the Malfoy man was unbuttoning his robes, his fellow companions took care of Annabelle’s clothes.

“You know what’s the most amusing part of it?” Regulus unexpectedly heard Bellatrix’s voice next to his ear and he almost had a heart attack when it happened. He had no idea when she approached him, as he was observing his cousin’s husband. “Lucius actually believes that he is the first one to be inside the girl.”

“What do you mean?” He used the chance that his eldest cousin talked with him to look away – he didn’t want to watch what the others were doing but he was too afraid to show weakness in their presence – and hoped that he sounded confident.

“Our Lord believes, and I, naturally, agree, that I deserve the best, so he allowed me to have some girl-to-girl fun with the brat when we were waiting for your arrival. Virgins are so prude, don’t you think, dear? Though, your wife's French so maybe you're luckier in that department than the rest of us,” she informed him with a chuckle and put her hands on his shoulders. “Now, Reggie, dear baby cousin of mine… our Master is merciful and wishes to spare the girl more suffering. You can only imagine how traumatised she would be if we released her after the meeting… that’s why, once the boys are done with the whore, you’re expected to end her misery.”

His immediate thought was to defy the Dark Lord’s order which was to kill his Herbology partner, as Annabelle was a proper pureblood witch and didn’t deserve to be punished for her father’s decision, but upon quick reflection he decided that to disobey the order of the most powerful Dark wizard in history would be very foolish indeed.

“I serve to please our Lord,” he responded instead and forced himself to smile. “I’m honoured.”

He knew he was a coward. He had chosen his life over Annabelle’s and he felt ashamed because of the choice he made. But he was aware that the Ravenclaw would die today anyway, so he saw no reason in risking his own neck. He was not a foolish Gryffindor. He had dreams to accomplish and dying at such a young age would intervene with them. He also tried to justify his horrendous actions by thinking that he was saving Bellatrix’s life as well, as she would be forced to protect him if anyone – Lord Voldemort included – dared to raise their wand at him.

There was a hierarchy in pureblood families. The most important person in the family was, obviously, the Head of House. The Head was responsible for representing the family in the Wizengamot and the Head’s decision considering any matters in the family was law. Other members were obligated to fulfil whatever the Head wanted: that was one of the reasons why he accepted Charlotte as his wife. Furthermore, the Head of House had the power to disown or bring back members of the family as they pleased. The current Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was his father.

The second most important person was the Heir (or the Heiress) apparent. The Heir was the future Head of the family and, after the Head, it was the person the other members were required to protect the most. If something happened to the Head, the Heir would become the leader of the family no matter their age - if the child was not old enough to rule on their own, Magic was choosing their regent. Usually it was the other parent. Currently, Regulus was the Heir, even though it was Sirius' role before he was disowned. His disownment was crucial because if Orion died before his first-born child was disowned, Sirius would be untouchable and could change the family politics.

His cousin was a Lestrange now but since she has been a Black by blood, she was still obligated to protect him and his father.

“Regulus.” His Master’s voice unexpectedly brought him back down to earth. “It’s time.”

“Yes, my Lord,” he answered immediately, afraid that he could be punished for delay, and bowed slightly before he took his wand out of his sleeve and marched towards the deflowered witch. He cringed when his cousin offered him a wicked smile, imitating what she had done to his schoolmate.

He forced himself to return the gesture. He had no clue how much time had passed since Annabelle was brought to the room, as he was lost in his thoughts most of the time, but she looked terrible. Her body was covered in bruises, blood was running down her head, and she was curled up in the foetal position. She was crying, though no sounds dared to escape her bloodied mouth. Regulus assumed that she had previously been silenced.

The young Black Heir swallowed hard at the sight and anxiously licked his dry lips.

He was going to put her out of her misery. Soon, her unnecessary suffering would come to an end. She would be in a much better place. She would finally be _safe_. He was going to bring her salvation. He was the one who would save her.

Or so Regulus was trying to convince himself in order to silence his conscience.

He pointed his wand at his schoolmate. As soon as he did that, he could hear the excitement among his companions. He decided to ignore them.

He bit his bottom lip when he saw his hand shaking slightly. There was no time for weakness. Lord Voldemort could _not_ see that he was scared! He was only bringing freedom. He should be confident!

He straightened up and took a deep breath to calm down his nerves, as he could hear his heart beating fast in his ears. He could do this. He _would_ do this. He knew that failure was equal with severe punishment, or worse – death. He was too scared to die!

The incantation was easy to pronounce. He also knew how to properly cast the spell because his cousin made him practice it on the animals she had conjured up during their magic lessons. There would be no pain. He was _not_ going to cause her any harm. He was going to stop the pain. The end would be quick. Faster than falling asleep.

He just had to say the curse aloud. Then everything would be over.

Annabelle, as if knowing that her death was near, lifted her bloodied head with difficulty. His grey eyes met her brown ones. Regulus’ heart stopped when he noticed that only emptiness was visible in them. Had she recognised him? He doubted it.

He closed his eyes. He was not able to look at her. But he had to finish it. Annabelle had suffered enough. It was time to release her from her misery. He re-opened his eyes.

“Avada Kedavra.”

The green light instantly escaped his wand and hit the girl’s body.

Regulus turned his gaze, as he was unable to look at his already dead friend. His companions, however, started cheering loudly the moment their Lord laughed cruelly. He stood quiet. He was shaking. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to disappear.

“I’m so proud of you, Reggie,” he heard Bellatrix’s joyful voice in his ear and a moment later her hands wrapped him in a familiar hug. But this time, he felt nothing. “You’re a good boy. You managed to pass your test. Our Lord is so proud of you.”

“Test?” he asked with confusion. Test? What test? He had no idea what was going on.

“Our Lord wished to find out if you’re ready to become a full member,” she informed him with a sincere smile. “Our Lord and I were aware that you knew the girl the moment she was taken. Everyone, but you, knew what was going to happen tonight, although the others had no clue who’s going to be present here this evening. They only knew that it’s someone you know. Lucius and some other guys thought that you would be too soft to kill your acquaintance. But I knew you were better than this. You won me a thousand galleons.”

Regulus inhaled sharply. He could refuse to kill and… he could live? They set him up? Did Annabelle’s father really reject Lord Voldemort's offer, or did they take her only because they knew each other? He had no idea what to think about it. He was still unable to comprehend what had just happened. He felt dizzy. He thought he was going to be sick.

He vomited as soon as he found himself at home. He didn’t even make it to the toilet. He just emptied his stomach in the living room the moment he left the fireplace. How he managed to stop himself from throwing up in front of everyone would forever stay an unsolved mystery.

Regulus went to the bathroom, paying attention to the fact that nobody else was at home. He wanted to take a shower as he felt dirty, but water didn't take his dirty feeling away. When he finally realised what he had gotten himself into, he couldn’t even look at himself. In absolute fury, he smashed the mirror in the bathroom because it reminded him of what kind of scum he was.

A murderer.

Ever since Sirius ran away from their family home, he used to think that he wanted to see him dead. That was a lie and he realised it just now. Sirius was his brother. He used to be his best friend. He wanted him to suffer as much as he did because he dared to abandon him. But now… when he finally killed his first victim… no. That was wrong. It felt wrong. _He_ was wrong. He was not a murderer.

Unfortunately, he was. He murdered his Herbology partner. But he doubted he would be able to take another life. The problem was… being a Death Eater was a lifetime service. He simply couldn't hand over his resignation. Desertion meant death.

Regulus lowered his eyes. His hands were cut, and blood poured profusely from the wounds, but he did nothing to fix the damage. Instead, he turned on his heel and excused himself from the bathroom; broken glass was scattered on the ceramic tiles.

The next thing he did was to grab a bottle of Firewhiskey – for some reason, they had a lot of it in the house – and drown his sorrows into it. He naively believed that he would be able to forget what he did. But forget he could not.

The young Heir drank and drank and drank. The moment the current bottle was empty, he summoned another one and repeated the action every time there was nothing else at the bottom of it. He didn’t care that it was making him sick. He cared not that he and the sofa were covered in his vomit and blood. His capacity to care about himself was thoroughly exhausted.

One sip. Then another. His hand was raising at a steady pace, allowing him to empty the bottle. One sip after another, the Firewhiskey cascaded down his throat. Each sip an attempt to numb himself from the inside out. He wanted to forget. Maybe the next sip would make him feel better? Maybe the sip after that would allow him to forget his heinous crime?

Damn it.

It wasn’t working.

He was still a murderer.

Why was he denied the right to forget?

The dishevelled Heir yawned. He was tired. So very tired. He closed his eyes. Just for a brief moment.

And then there was only darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the chapter contains child abuse.

He had forgotten.

Not once did Annabelle’s bloodied and tear-stained face visit him in his dreams that night – for that he was profoundly grateful. So grateful that his initial thought was that everything that took place the previous night during the Death Eaters’ meeting was just a dream. A horrible nightmare.

But a nightmare it was not.

Regulus fearfully opened his eyes when the heat of the sun’s rays gently kissed his face, and upon seeing the Black family crest which had been painstakingly pained over his double-bed, he breathed a sigh of relief. Good. He was in his bedroom, sober and without a hangover, which could mean only one thing – he didn’t drink and pass out in the living room. And because he didn’t pass out there, it meant that there was no reason to drown his sorrows because his conscience and hands were clean.

He immediately raised his hands and laughed abruptly when he noticed with amazement that they were entirely unscathed. He allowed a grin to appear on his face as soon as he contained his laughter. He had never been so relieved in his entire life, as he had been at that moment – he gained yet another piece of evidence that it was just a nightmare and Annabelle was safe with her family.

But his happiness didn’t last long.

“You can thank me for that later.” Regulus heard a familiar, feminine voice from the other side of the room. Time suddenly stopped for him, and so did his heartbeat. “I removed the shards of glass from your hands and healed you as soon as I found you in that… in that state.”

Regulus’ throat went dry the moment the voice delivered its unexpected and cruel message. His gaze was still focused on his hands, so it took him only seconds to notice that they commenced shaking. He… had been healed. His hands used to be covered in blood. _His_ blood. The glass had been removed from his skin… the mirror glass that he had smashed in fury the previous night because…

The young Heir promptly leaned out of his bed and emptied his already empty stomach. The events of the meeting came to him with a great force. He could see every single detail he would rather forget. He could see how his brothers-in-arms forced themselves on his innocent Herbology partner. He could see her bloodied face and unseeing gaze. He could see the green light leaving his wand and taking Annabelle’s life forever…

So it wasn’t a nightmare. He did it. He had the blood of an innocent victim on his hands. The blood of a young, _pureblood_ witch. He was a murderer. A monster.

“What have I done…” he muttered as soon as he lay back on the bed and put his hands on his face. Tears appeared in his eyes but he paid them no mind. “What the fuck have I done…”

“Well, you certainly made quite a mess in the living room, that’s for sure,” commented the voice and a moment later he heard his interlocutor moving towards his bed. “And now you vomited on a horrendously expensive Persian rug despite the fact that I’ve given you anti-nausea potions. Do I even want to know what made you drink into oblivion?”

The young Heir slowly uncovered his face and looked towards the source of the voice. A ghostly silhouette was stood at the bottom edge of the bed, wand in hand as it was used to remove the mess he made. Regulus blinked a few times until his eyes could focus again properly. It was his wife. She was wearing a flowing white dress that emphasized her feminine figure, and her bright blonde hair flowed down from her head to her waist framing her in a manner where he could barely recognise her at the first glance, despite the fact that he identified her voice without missing a beat.

He winced inwardly and hastily averted his gaze the moment their eyes met, as he was unable to stand the look of disappointment and concern that was present in his wife’s bright blue eyes. He was aware that she strongly disapproved of his undying loyalty to the Dark Lord, as she didn’t even bother to try hide her contempt – and Merlin, how could he blame her now? – but…

Just like his cousin suggested to him, he was quite cold and distant with the witch but Charlotte…Charlotte had always been a faithful and caring wife. She always cared about his well-being, especially during the meetings. Kreacher revealed to him once that she was crying a flood of tears every single time he was away, even though he made it his mission to constantly remind her that for him she was inferior and didn’t deserve his respect.

Oh, what a stupid fool he was! Charlotte was the most wonderful wife a man could’ve asked for and _he_ was the one who didn’t deserve her. What a shame he just realised that…

“I was… I was looking for a way to forget.” The whispered confession escaped his throat before he could convince himself to stay quiet. “For a way to… silence my conscience.”

“And? Did you find what you were looking for?” Came up a sarcastic response. Regulus shuddered upon hearing his wife’s tone. Charlotte had never spoken to anyone like that. She had always been calm, even when she was furious – or especially when she was just that.

The young wizard was about to deliver his response, but before he had a chance, the blonde raised her hand to stop him.

“You know what, I don’t really want to know. You made it quite clear that your life is pointless without that cruel monster you fondly call your _Master_, and that I should mind my own business.” Charlotte started sharply. “You want to ruin your life? Fine. Be my guest. I won’t stop you. But if you dare to force Kreacher, _again_, to assist you during your meetings, then I swear to Merlin that I’m going to hurt you in ways even your so called Lord couldn’t dream of. That poor thing didn’t deserve what was done to him. Did I make myself clear?”

Regulus blinked in confusion hearing his wife’s unexpected speech. While he could finally understand that Charlotte was rightfully mad at him for becoming a Death Eater – and he deserved her anger and so much more – then he had no idea why she would include his beloved house elf in the equation. He didn’t take Kreacher with him for the meeting then why...

“Merlin’s beard, what did he do to him?!” he shouted the moment he recalled that he had lent Kreacher to his Lord before Annabelle was brought to the room; he got up from his bed so suddenly that he almost fell down to the floor. “Is he going to be ok?”

“Oh, please, don’t pretend that you don’t know what happened or that you care about his well-being now,” the girl sneered and stabbed his naked torso, hard, with the top of her wand. Regulus had completely forgotten that she never put it away after she cleaned the mess he had made. “He managed to tell me, before he fainted from pain, that you called him during the meeting and that he was doing what you ordered him to do.”

“I want to see him,” the young Heir announced quickly, trying to keep his raising fear at bay, and moved towards the door but before he had a chance to take a step, he was roughly pushed onto his bed.

“No.” Came up a stern, immediate response. “You don’t get to see him without my permission. Understood?”

“He’s _my_ house elf!” Regulus protested hotly and was about to get up, again, but instead yelped and fell down onto the mattress when he was hexed unexpectedly. He didn’t expect his wife to react like that.

“Then you should treat him as one!” Charlotte scolded him, a scowl made an appearance on her beautiful face. “That poor thing was barely alive when I found him. You should be grateful that Fleur got sick and I returned home earlier or else Kreacher would be dead by now! For this fact alone I should drag your pathetic arse right before the International Confederation of Wizards, not to mention the fact that you’re a willing member of a known group of wanted _criminals_.”

Regulus could feel as his entire body commenced to tremble without his permission. There were plenty of things he had wished to say to excuse himself – for example, not knowing that his Master would hurt his beloved house elf – but he already knew that it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing could explain and justify – and, most importantly, undo – his horrendous actions.

The young Heir clenched his fists in an attempt to control his emotions and then looked at his left forearm with disdain. The Dark Mark he not so long ago adored and was proud of, now felt like a stain on his honour. A stain on his soul. If cutting his arm off would help him clean his soul, he would do that without betting an eye. It was better to live without an arm than with a hole in the soul.

“Maybe you should,” he finally said. His voice quiet as a whisper.

Charlotte had no idea that he was responsible for taking away his Herbology partner’s life, and frankly, he wasn’t brave enough to confess this particular sin yet – as it would require him to accept the fact that Annabelle was no longer among the living and he was accountable for that – but he definitely deserved to be punished for allowing Kreacher to get hurt.

Regulus loved his country but even he had to admit that Great Britain was quite old-fashioned in some aspects. For example, it was acceptable to abuse the house elves, even though such practice was outlawed and heavily fined in many European countries, France being an example. He knew that among Death Eaters almost everyone – Bellatrix included – abused their bonded servants. Regulus was against it, and so was his wife. In fact, because Charlotte was a French citizen and abusing the house elves was not allowed there, she could sue him for that before the International Confederation of Wizards despite the fact that it was legal in his home country in which they currently lived.

“Yes… maybe I should,” she agreed and moved to leave the room. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Make yourself presentable because your cousins and their husbands will join us. I doubt you’d want Bellatrix to see you in such a state, wouldn’t you?”

And with that jab, Charlotte excused herself from his bedroom, closing the door behind herself. Regulus once again stayed alone with his unwanted memories and his growing guilt.

“Fuck!” he screamed and buried his face in his hands. “What have I done… Sweet Merlin, can I still fix it somehow?”

***

“You swore your loyalty and devotion to me, Regulus Black, and yet you dared to betray me like some common piece of scum!” Lord Voldemort hissed from his place on the throne. “Now your treachery will cost you much!”

Regulus shuddered despite himself, secretly wishing that he could be brave like his Gryffindor classmates, or even like his brother. For some unknown for him reason, he was bonded and forced to kneel on a cold, stone floor in front of the wizard’s extravagant throne, while his comrades-in-arms surrounded them in a circle, each having their wand ready in their hands.

The young Heir frowned, trying hard to come up with a reason why he found himself in such an unusual position, but his attempts turned out to be fruitless. The last thing he could remember was talking with Bellatrix about her new mission, she was letting him know that their Master wanted her to assassin one of his enemies who ran away to Croatia like some pathetic coward, and then he went to grab something for dinner and didn’t leave the house, nor did he contact anyone. He couldn’t even recall being summoned for a meeting! Could that mean that he was kidnapped from his own home?

“Treachery?” he finally asked, forcing himself to look into his Lord’s red eyes. He regretted his action almost immediately because the fury in the man’s red eyes was overwhelming. Regulus had no doubt that if looks could kill, he would be already among the dead.

“Don’t make a fool out of yourself, boy, as it doesn’t suit you!” The wizard hissed and took out his wand from his sleeve so fast that the young Heir didn’t even have a chance to blink. “Did you really believe that I wouldn’t know of your defection?”

His what?... He must have heard the wizard wrong. Defection? What was the meaning of this? What was the man talking about in the first place? Regulus was as clueless as the day he was born. Yes. Ever since he was… politely _asked_ to take his Herbology partner’s life, he considered approaching Headmaster Dumbledore and asking him for help in exchange for becoming his spy – since he was aware that the aging wizard had created his own organisation which he named the Order of the Phoenix, and he was also aware that Sirius was a member – but it was something that he kept to himself. At the end of the day, not even Kreacher knew that this particular thought had crossed his mind and his beloved servant knew all of his secrets. What else, he was a talented Occlumens, so there was no way that anyone would read his mind without his knowledge.

“Don’t bother to answer. I’m not interested in hearing lies.” Lord Voldemort silenced him the moment he opened his mouth to express his disagreement. “Besides, filthy traitors, like you, don’t deserve to be heard. All you deserve is to be punished. Bring her now, Rookwood!”

Regulus fearfully forced himself to look at his fellow Death Eater who entered the room a few moments later. He could see that he was carrying something – _someone_ – and all he could do was to pray to anyone willing to listen to him that it wasn’t anyone he knew. He wasn’t a fool. He knew more than well how their Lord liked to punish his male enemies – by kidnapping their beloved women (mothers, wives, daughters… the man cared not) and letting his followers… use them to release themselves.

“Not Charlotte,” he muttered to himself. “Please, not Charlotte.”

The young Heir released his breath when he noticed that their… guest had brown hair instead of blonde. Good. They didn’t kidnap his wife. She didn’t deserve to suffer because of his foolishness, especially not in her current condition. It turned out that he had impregnated her during the New Year’s Eve night, soon before he had to return to Hogwarts, when she allowed him to share a bed with her. He was aware that she was still furious with him for everything he had done and he would gladly castrate him so his stupidity wouldn’t be inherited, but she was also aware that begetting an heir was a duty for their family. Her side of the family included.

Something unpleasant had turned in Regulus’ stomach the moment he noticed that the person who was brought to the room was nothing but a frightened child, unable to be more than five if he could base his assumption on its looks. The young wizard’s heart broke into a million pieces. He had never seen the little girl before but… a child? Maybe it was his paternal instinct as he was going to be a father, soon, but the idea of a child being hurt was making him sick more than hurting an adult ever would – adults had a chance to fight while children were powerless. Besides, did Lord Voldemort truly intend to deflower an innocent child? That was cruel even for such a heartless monster as he was.

“Daddy?” Regulus’ mouth unwittingly fell open when the girl spoke directly to him. He winced when he noticed that she had bruises on her young face. Her big, brown eyes were full of tears that wanted to escape, and as he could see, her bottom lip was trembling. “I’m scared, Daddy. I want to go home. Take me home, Daddy. Take me to Mummy, please!”

Regulus’ whole body commenced shaking without his approval upon hearing the child’s unexpected words. Did she just call him ‘Daddy?’ No… it couldn’t be possible. The child was around five and he himself was only eighteen-years-old. He would have to be thirteen when she was born, for Merlin’s sake! He had much more important things to do than chasing girls when he was younger. Besides, Charlotte was the only person he had ever slept with and they got married when they both were seventeen, and currently they were expecting the arrival of their _firstborn_ child.

The young Heir wished to say something, to explain that he wasn’t the girl’s father in hope that it would spare her, but no words were able to leave his throat. He closed his eyes, as if wanting to calm down his emotions when he reminded himself that he was previously silenced.

“Enough of this pathetic whining, you annoying creature!” The Dark Lord hissed and Regulus could hear him getting up from his throne. The young Heir slowly opened his eyes, wincing, because the man just slapped the child across her face and then roughly grabbed her by her hair. “Now, gentlemen. Let me introduce you to our dear Regulus’ whelp. _Lady_ Hermione.”

Hermione. Black’s heart almost stopped beating when he heard the name. His _unborn_ child’s name. How could the man know that he wished to name his daughter that? Not even his family members knew that, he had only just picked the name with Charlotte!

“My dear friends…” The man harshly threw the crying child on the floor and put his leg on her back when the girl tried to crawl to him; he laughed cruelly when she screamed, falling under his weight, and his followers soon followed his example and started laughing as well. “Let’s show our dear Regulus that we won’t tolerate treason in our ranks. Crucio!”

The young Heir was expecting to feel an immense pain, soon, as the man pointed his wand at him, but the pain never arrived. Instead, a bloodcurdling scream was heard in the room. Tears started rolling down his face when the child, the little girl that called him Daddy, was screaming and begging for help, being at the receiving end of the wizard’s unforgivable curse.

He tried to move. He tried to break the bonds and save the little girl. In vain. His companions only laughed at his fruitless efforts. He swore. It was probably the very first time in his entire life when he felt utterly helpless. It was also the moment when he wanted nothing more than to kill his so-called Master. He wished to rip him to pieces. Regulus still didn’t want to believe that this child, this _Hermione_ was his. But it mattered not. What mattered was the fact that she was an innocent child that couldn’t protect herself and this fact alone was unforgivable. Regulus knew that he deserved to rot in hell for his horrendous actions, but Lord Voldemort deserved to suffer with him.

“Master Regulus?” he heard a familiar voice somewhere in the distance but he couldn’t comprehend who was talking to him right now. He could also feel someone beginning to shake him but he couldn’t force himself to care about it at that moment. His eyes were focused on the crying girl. He had to help her somehow. If only he knew, how… “Master Regulus?”

“What the hell!” Regulus yelled a few moments later, startled, because someone poured a bucket of cold water on him. Shaking uncontrollably, he forced himself to look in the child’s direction, again, but to his great surprise, he found himself looking right into his beloved house elf’s big, bright eyes instead of the ones belonging to the tortured girl. “Kreacher? What are you doing here? What happened?”

“Kreacher is sorry for pouring water on Master Regulus, but Master Regulus was having a nightmare,” the old creature whispered and bowed its head to show his respect. “Master Regulus was screaming and Kreacher couldn’t wake him up otherwise. Kreacher also silenced the room, so Mistress Charlotte could sleep peacefully.”

“I had a nightmare?” The young Heir laughed abruptly the moment his servant nodded, and hugged him before the house elf had a chance to react. “Thank heavens! Just a nightmare. Kreacher, my dear friend, you have no idea how pleased I am to hear that it was only a product of my imagination!”

The wizard chuckled when the creature blinked in response to his unexpected words. Kreacher knew him better than anyone else and he was aware that he noticed a change in his behaviour. Actually, if Regulus had to be honest with himself, he was certain that even a blind person would notice that he had changed after the memorable meeting.

When Charlotte finally allowed him to visit his little friend – and he had to beg her on his knees for her permission to see him – his faithful servant had confessed everything, even down to the smallest of details regarding what had happened to him in the presence of the Dark Lord. He informed him that he was forced to drink some mysterious potion from the basin before the wizard hid his locket inside, boasting that he achieved immortality.

Immortality.

That one word in association with Lord Voldemort made a shiver run down Regulus’ spine. The man was a monster. A real monster, Bogeyman was nothing in comparison to him. He finally acknowledged what his wife and disowned brother tried to tell him all that time; better later than never, he used to tell himself to silence his conscience. Such a person should be eliminated from society… instead of being allowed to live forever.

At the very beginning, the young Heir had no idea _how_ the wizard supposedly achieved immortality, but when he returned to Hogwarts, he delved himself into research. Instead of preparing himself for his N.E.W.Ts, Regulus was spending every single free minute in the school library or in his dormitory where he was reading books delivered to him by Kreacher, which was hiding from the rest of his family. Only he and Charlotte were aware that he was still alive. All because during the dinner they had after the unfortunate meeting, Bellatrix told him that their Lord was sorry to inform him about his house elf’s premature death. He was grateful that Charlotte disliked Bellatrix more than him and cared for Kreacher greatly, otherwise he was sure that she would inform his cousin that his loyal servant was still breathing.

It took him half a year but he finally was able to discover the Dark wizard’s secret. A Horcrux. The idea was making him sick. The Dark Lord made something as disgusting as parting his soul in order to become immortal.

The future Duke of Lancaster couldn’t believe how stupid he was to blindly follow and _support_ this man. This monster. This… soulless beast. He couldn’t believe that he willingly wanted to be just like him. Just thinking about it made him want to vomit.

“Master?” Kreacher’s voice once again brought him back to present. “Are you all right?”

“What? Oh, yes… yes, I am,” he answered and sighed heavily when his companion raised his eyebrow at him. “Well, fine. I have been better but I’m going to be okay. What time it is, anyway?”

“Less than ten minutes to four, Master,” came up an answer.

Regulus hummed in response and absentmindedly began to rub the back of his neck. Truth be told, he was dead tired and would like to return to bed but the last thing he wanted was to fall back asleep as he was terrified of having nightmares again. He doubted that he would be able to stand another nightmare featuring a child being tortured. It was enough that Annabelle’s face was haunting him every single time he had closed his eyes.

“Well… there’s no need to waste such a fine day!” he said, clapping his hands together as if wanting to support his words. “I’m going to take a quick shower now because despite your wet wake-up call, I’m still sweaty. In the meantime, I’d appreciate if you could prepare the Pensieve and your memories from that day – we already know what the locket is, so I think it’s in our best interest to try to recreate it as soon as we can.”

“As you wish, Master,” the house elf bowed and disappeared a moment later.

The young Heir sighed when he was left alone and begrudgingly went to his wardrobe to pick up a set of new robes. They were, naturally, black, as almost everything in his closet was. Once he was satisfied with his outfit choice, he headed to his en suite and prepared himself for the day.

Regulus returned to his bedroom less than twenty minutes later. Both the old Pensieve and his servant’s memories were organised on his oak desk. He smiled sadly when he saw them.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” he said to his companion which just finished making his bed. He simply nodded in response.

“Master? Does Master need Kreacher’s help?” the creature asked a few moments later because he was too busy staring out of the window.

The young wizard shook his head and refocused his attention on his interlocutor.

“No… thank you but… this is something I have to do on my own,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to watch what he did to you. It’s enough that you had to endure it in the first place.”

“As you wish, Master,” Kreacher bowed respectfully and was about to disappear when he was stopped.

“As you well know, the Delacours will be coming here today to celebrate my graduation,” he said and looked at his companion. “It would be amazing if you could prepare Clafoutis. I’m sure you know how much little Fleur adores it.”

“Master doesn’t need to worry. Kreacher will take care of everything!” the house elf said quickly and disappeared before the wizard was able to say something else.

Regulus shook his head, smiling, at his servant’s antics. He was aware that the creature would deny everything without batting an eye if confronted, but Kreacher truly adored his young niece Fleur, and the house elf was ready to do anything to please the child, even though he was aware that he would have to stay hidden during the Delacour’s visit.

“Well, there’s no need to waste time,” he told himself when he was left alone and put Kreacher’s memories into the Pensieve. “Let’s get rid of that cruel bastard, so my Hermione won’t have to meet him. Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Regulus lay in his king-sized bed; his grey eyes wide open. He was lost in his thoughts and as a result, he lost track of time; he stopped paying attention to that fact when the antique grandfather clock announced the midnight. What not many people knew about that particular thing was the fact that it was the very first grandfather clock that had been ever created. One of Regulus’ ancestors, which one, the boy no longer cared, received it as a debt payment from the descendants of its creator – the clockmaker was a Squib and spent his entire life among Muggles.

The teenager huffed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

His life had changed quite drastically in the last couple of months, and he wouldn’t be lying by saying that he no longer believed that he had any control over it, nor that it still belonged to him. Not completely, anyway. The Dark Mark on his arm was his constant reminder of that state of affairs; as long as Lord Voldemort was alive, he was his slave and the only way to escape his no longer wanted fate was death. Moreover, Regulus had an unpleasant feeling that he had already started paying for his sins… for his sheer stupidity. The problem was – his family members seemed to be in the crossfire as well.

Since it was already after midnight, as far as Regulus was able to recall, it meant that his father Orion Black had perished unexpectedly exactly a month ago, on August the 19th. What was the reason of his death, the Healers from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries had no idea. The young wizard was aware that all kinds of necessary tests had been carried out when the man was brought to the hospital, after all he had been there when the Healers were examining his father’s condition in order to save his life. In vain. Orion had died the very same night, and according to the conducted tests, it was a natural death at the age of fifty; the man definitely wasn’t poisoned nor was he in a fight beforehand. Still, fifty was a fairy young age for a magical person.

Regulus sighed heavily and absentmindedly rubbed his face before he turned his gaze from the ceiling to the person lying next to him, adjusting his body to match his head. A small, sad smile made a brief appearance on his lips when he started watching his peacefully sleeping wife, noticing that she kept her hands protectively on her visibly pregnant belly. If Charlotte’s Healer could be believed, then their child should join their family at the end of September.

Regulus’ hand found its way to his wife’s. The blonde squeezed it instinctually, even though she was still sleeping deeply. The young man suppressed his laugh. He was an absolute fool who had many regrets, Annabelle being one of the biggest ones. Nonetheless, no matter how much his conscience was tormenting him for his life choices, he was also grateful for what had happened to him. He hated that he killed his friend, but he needed this wake-up call. Merlin only knew what would happen to him if he was asked to kill some random person. No. No matter how much it pained him to even think about it, he was silently grateful that his victim was someone he knew. Without this wake-up call, he would probably still be a blindfolded follower of a cruel monster. Without this wake-up call, he probably wouldn’t have won his wife’s forgiveness, as he would continue to disrespect her, and most definitely he wouldn’t have a child on his way.

His biggest accomplishment. The light of his life. His dearest Hermione.

He doubted that he would ever forget Charlotte’s dumbstruck look when he informed her that he would like to name their child Hermione. Most of the members of the House of Black were named after constellations, so she expected him to respect this tradition knowing that he was a traditionalist.

“Hermione? That’s a very beautiful name. But why Hermione?” she asked him back then.

“Why not?” he answered her with his boyish smile. “You know that I’m quite interested in Greek mythology. Hermione was the only child of Menelaus, the king of Sparta, and his wife, Helen of Troy. Our daughter’s going to be royalty among the wizarding community, so I think that she should have a name worthy of a princess. Besides, it’s quite unique, so…”

The reason as to why he suggested such an usual name was far different though. He was a fan of Greek mythology, that would be right, but the truth was that he himself could recall asking exactly the same thing a few years ago. Why choose the name Hermione over their family tradition? He knew the answer now and he wished to make a statement.

“Hermione.” That was the very first thing that Sirius told him when he entered his bedroom in the late evening during the summer holiday before his first year at Hogwarts. Back when they still had a good relationship. Back before his brother was sorted into Gryffindor. “My future little daughter’s name. Hermione. Beautiful, don’t you think, baby brother of mine?”

He blinked in confusion, putting his eldest cousin’s old Charms book back on his desk – his parents wanted him to practice even though he was only ten – as he watched his brother making himself comfortable on his bed. He had no idea what the meaning of the older boy’s unexpected confession was.

“Hermione… as in Helen of Troy’s daughter? The Princess of Sparta?” he asked him and slowly got up from his chair and then headed towards his guest who nodded in confirmation, grinning like a fool he sometimes was. “That’s… a lovely name. Unique one, if you ask me… but why Hermione? Why not a name that would follow the pattern of our family? And why are you telling me this now?”

“Oh, c’mon, my geek of a brother, who cares about some stupid pattern! You can follow it if you like but I want my child to be named Hermione. As for why… as you probably recall, Helen of Troy was said to have been the most beautiful woman in the world, right?” Sirius responded and took out his brand new wand out of his sleeve holster. He simply nodded at his brother’s words, not really understanding what this all was about. “And, as you know, Grandfather signed a betrothal contract promising me to Lord Delacour’s daughter. You also know Charlotte. She’s only ten but I already can tell that she’s going to be a beautiful woman in the future. My own Helen of Troy, the mother of my Hermione!”

“Um, Sirius, you… are aware that she has been abducted by Prince Paris of Troy, aren’t you?” he asked hesitantly and absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck. No matter how much he tried, he failed to understand his brother’s logic.

“So?” the older boy dismissed his question with the wave of his hand. “The contract says that we’re going to get married once she turns seventeen, so unless you decide to be the Paris of our story, then I have nothing to worry about.”

“You mean Charlotte and I? Gross!” Regulus winced at the mere idea of kissing a girl, anyone really, and he sat down at the bottom edge of his bed. “Girls are gross.”

Sirius only laughed at his antics and gently stabbed his right arm with the top end of his wand.

“Sometimes I forget what kind of a weirdo you are, Reggie.” His brother said once he regained control over his amusement. “Anyway… Hermione’s a name worthy of a princess. You know that our family is one of the most important ones in the whole magical world, so my daughter must have a suitable name to represent her badass status. Besides, I intend to spoil her rotten. She’s going to be my little princess. Both literally and figuratively.”

“Sirius… you know that you might never have a daughter, right?” he asked him gently, not really knowing how he should behave right now. He was barely _ten_ and his almost _twelve_-year-old brother was so convinced that he was going to have a daughter in the future that he had already picked up the name. “You may have a son instead of a daughter. In fact, I’m sure Mother would rather you sired a son.”

“Mother can burn in hell as far as I care,” the older Black hissed and red sparks escaped his wand. Sirius took a deep breath to calm himself down the moment he noticed that he made him flinch. “Apologies, Reggie. It didn’t come out right. What I tried to tell you is that I don’t want to have a son. Not really. I want to have a daughter, or I’m not going to have any children. Ever. But I know that in the future Charlotte’s going to give birth to Hermione. I just feel it in my bones.”

The current Duke of Lancaster decided to name his daughter Hermione because he wanted his brother to know that there was still good in him. It was his olive branch for Sirius, all because fate had decided, Regulus mussed regretfully, that his brother wouldn’t have children. He was informed about it during Easter break through Bellatrix. She let him know that during one of the attacks, when he was at Hogwarts trying to find out Lord Voldemort’s secret, she and some other Death Eaters ran into a few members of the Order of the Phoenix. Sirius, naturally, was among them. His cousin gleefully informed him that she cursed his brother sterile, so he wouldn’t be able to pass his traitorous blood onto his potential offspring.

The particular information made Regulus sick and for the next month, he was dreaming about nothing else but his once favourite-turned-insane cousin cutting his poor balls off and then forcing him to eat them. His punishment was much more brutal than his brother’s – who, fortunately, still had his balls attached to his body – all because she somehow found out his plans for stealing and destroying Lord Voldemort’s Horcrux. He was grateful that at that time Charlotte still lived in a separate bedroom because he was waking up, screaming and had to silence his room every night. The only thing that was keeping him relatively sane was the fact that around Easter he still was the Heir of their House and Bellatrix was obligated to protect him.

Speaking about the Horcrux… the new Duke of Lancaster had spent all his free time during summer to make a perfect copy of his former Master’s locket. He spent hours in the Pensieve, watching Kreacher’s memories and memorising all the details. His copy had to be perfect. He had only one chance to pull it off. The Dark Lord should never know what was about to hit him. If the wizard found out what he intended to do before he was able to destroy the locket, the consequences would be horrible, not only for him but for the whole world. The _whole_ world, the Muggle side included.

Regulus sighed quietly and carefully got up from the bed, not wanting to wake up his wife. Charlotte was quite sick during the pregnancy and there were nights when she couldn’t sleep, so he wanted her to rest as much as she could. Besides, he didn't want her to know that he was leaving.

A night before, he had finally finished working on the locket and decided that he should replace it with the original one as soon as possible. It was in everyone’s best interest to get rid of that… beast as soon as possible. Regulus was determined to do it himself. Frankly, he was probably the only person who could do this. He was aware that there were spies on both sides – whom they were, he unfortunately had no idea – so it would be foolish of him to inform the Order about his plans. He would be long dead before he would be able to do anything. There was a small voice in the back of his head telling him that it was a suicide mission but… he had no choice. He wanted his child to be safe. He wanted all the best for his child – and being fatherless in a safe world without Lord Voldemort was much more important than having a father and living in constant fear, right? Or at least that was what Regulus tried to tell himself in order to excuse his actions. He wanted his baby girl to be raised in a safe world. And he was more than aware that Charlotte would take a good care of their first-born.

He quietly walked towards the wardrobe and carefully took out his favourite black cloak. The locket was already hidden in one of the pockets. The boy was about to leave the room when he unexpectedly heard his name.

“Regulus?” the young Duchess asked sleepily. “Did something bad happen?”

The wizard took a deep breath and slowly turned on his heel. Then he begrudgingly walked towards their bed, kneeling down. He hoped to leave without saying goodbye. That was too painful for him.

“No, nothing bad happened. I promise. But you should go back to sleep, dear.” He tried to sound casual as he said it and grabbed her hand, which he then kissed. “There’s just one thing I have to do.”

“Have you been summoned?” Charlotte asked, yawning against her will. She was completely exhausted. “Honestly, must he do this in the middle of the night? Does he ever sleep?”

“Forces of evil never sleep,” he joked and despite this whole situation, he forced himself to raise his lips in a small smile “But you should, it will be good for our baby. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” said the witch as she fought really hard not to fall asleep in the middle of their conversation. “Just be careful and come back, soon.”

A bile rose in his throat, as the guilty feeling took over his body. He was aware that there were high chances that he was about to experience the last moments on Earth. Nonetheless, he forced himself to smile again and then kissed his wife’s forehead.

“I truly care about you, Charlotte,” he said evasively, being unable to say ‘I love you’ to her and then put his head under the quilt and kissed the girl’s pregnant belly. “And I _love_ you, Hermione. With all my heart. Please, be good for Mummy when Daddy is away, can you promise me that?”

The blonde-haired teenager chuckled when she was kicked in response. It was as if the little girl wanted to say that she understood.

“We care about you, too, Reggie. Come back quickly.”

The words had failed him, so he did the first thing that came to his mind – he kissed his wife for goodbye and promptly moved to leave the master bedroom; Charlotte was asleep even before he reached the threshold. He smiled sadly and left the room. As soon as the door closed behind him with a quiet click, he took a deep breath. He knew it was going to be hard, but he simply didn’t expect that leaving his family behind would be so heartbreaking.

“Rinky! Kreacher!” he called quietly.

A few seconds later two house elves appeared in front of him. Both were dressed in special uniforms for house elves – made in Paris at Charlotte’s insistence – and the crest of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was displayed on their left chests. Furthermore, both creatures had a small, silver pin with a letter “H” on their right chest, which stands for “Head Elf.” Just like wizards had a hierarchy in families, the house elves also had one among them. The eldest family house elf was always in charge of other elves. Before Kreacher was forced to stay hidden, he was the Head Elf in the Black household, but right now that role – at least to the rest of the world – belonged to Rinky, who was Kreacher’s nephew. Nonetheless, behind the scenes, Kreacher was still in charge.

“How can we serve you, Master?” the older creature asked and bowed respectfully.

There was a brief moment of silence. Just a short moment during which Regulus hesitated. Was he brave enough to do this? He highly doubted it. He was a Slytherin after all. He had many qualities but extreme courage wasn’t one of them. Nonetheless, he forced himself to think about his unborn daughter. That thought was enough to give him much needed strength. He could – and would – do this. For his Hermione. For her better future.

He sighed, continuing to be silent, and took his watch out of one of his pockets. It was almost five. Damn. He’d really lost track of time. He hoped it was earlier.

“Rinky, I have a place to attend to. Please, take care of my wife during my absence,” he addressed the young servant. “It would be appreciated if you could prepare her favourite breakfast. Don’t wait for me, though. I doubt I’ll make it for breakfast.”

“Of course, Master Regulus. Rinky will make sure Mistress Charlotte is well during Master’s absence,” came up a polite answer and once he was dismissed, the creature disappeared; most likely to the kitchen to start making breakfast. His wife was usually up before six.

“Kreacher…” he said and looked at his little friend who observed him attentively, fear was evident on his elderly face. “I think it’s time, Kreacher.”

His faithful servant lowered his head and Regulus could hear him swallowing loudly, as they both knew what he was trying to say. He couldn’t blame his companion for such a reaction, though, as he knew that Kreacher had cared for him deeply – he was at his side since the moment he was born – and didn’t want him to get hurt.

“So… to the cave, Master?” the house elf asked him, wanting to be clear that it was his order, and hesitantly offered him his hand. He accepted it ever so slowly.

“Yes, Kreacher,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “I want you to take me to the cave in which Lord Voldemort hid his locket.”

A lone tear escaped Regulus’ eye, running freely down his face. Before the teenager had a chance to wipe it, they disappeared with a characteristic crack.

***

“When I finish drinking the potion, I want you to switch the lockets and then, if that is possible, take us back home. Understood?” Regulus asked his companion, trying to sound confident, when they found themselves on a small island in the middle of the cave. There was nothing but a pedestal on which stood a basin full of an emerald liquid.

“Master Regulus… Master Regulus knows that Kreacher will gladly drink – ”

“I know that more than well, my dear. However, this is something I have to do on my own,” he interrupted the small house elf before he could finish his sentence. When he noticed his little friend’s crestfallen expression, his face softened immediately and he knelt down before him, putting his hands on the creature’s shaking shoulders. “Hey… please, don’t be sad that you’re not allowed to drink the potion in my place, my beloved Kreacher. I know that you’d stop the Earth for me if you thought that it would make me happy and I still, after all these years, fail to understand what I ever did to you to earn your loyalty as it is truly enviable. But I need you to be strong because without your assistance, I won’t be able to leave the cave, and the potion would leave you essentially powerless. Last time you had to drink it, you were sick for days.”

The response never arrived. Instead, his usually calm companion burst into tears and hugged him tightly. Regulus swallowed a bile that suddenly rose in his throat, numbly returning the gesture. He could feel tears appearing in his own eyes and he fought hard to keep them at bay. In vain, as a moment later he started sobbing quite ungracefully into his little friend’s uniform.

“I don’t wanna die,” he whimpered, clinging to Kreacher as if hoping that he could take all his fears away and save him from what was about to happen. “The potion will most likely kill me. I have… I have a child on my way. I’m going… to be a father. I don’t… Don’t wanna… be gone.”

“Master Regulus…” began the house elf, his voice hoarse from crying. “Master Regulus… one word and Kreacher shall drink the potion. Please, Master Regulus. Just one word.”

Oh, the offer was tempting! So tempting that he almost succumbed to accepting it, seeking the easy way out. Almost. All because he, heavens be blessed, forced himself to think about Annabelle. He was sure that his friend was denied a similar offer. Ha! He _knew_ that nobody had asked her if she wanted and consented to being repeatedly beaten and raped by several men – and one psychopathic woman – and then killed by a person whom she trusted.

No.

He couldn’t accept his companion’s tempting offer, no matter how tempted he was. _He_ had to be the one to drink the potion. He owed it to his Herbology partner. Because of him, because she was his _acquaintance_, her last moments on Earth were extremely painful and inhuman. He had to pay for his crimes… for his sins. He had to wash away the guilt. He had to clear his conscience, even if that meant that he had to die in the process. He had to stop his former Master from achieving immortality, or else not only his little girl would be in danger but the whole world.

“No,” he finally said, reluctantly breaking their embrace, and wiped his tears away. “I must be the one to do that. I don’t want to… but I have to. For Hermione. So my baby girl can be safe.”

The young Duke of Lancaster took a deep breath in order to calm himself down and quickly removed his wand from his sleeve holster. He waved it once in a simple pattern, conjuring up a crystal goblet, and secured it again.

Stumbling, he got up from the ground, keeping the conjured object in such a strong hold as if his life depended on it, and then poured some liquid into it. His eyes instinctively found their way to his faithful companion who continued to weep silently over his incoming fate.

“Once I’m unable to drink it on my own… and we both know that it _will_ happen sooner or later, then you must force me to drink it. That’s the order,” he said, not liking the way in which his voice sounded – full of fear. “Once the basin is empty, switch the lockets.”

“Yes, Master Regulus,” came up a whispered agreement.

“One more thing – as you know, there are high chances that I might not survive our little… adventure. I hope that it won’t be the case but… if it turns out that I won’t be able to make it out alive, I order you to switch the lockets and _try_ to destroy the real one. But, if you’re unable to, I _order_ you not to blame yourself for that. Do you understand?” He placed his hand on top of Kreacher’s head. The creature nodded ever so slightly. “However, you shall not inform anyone about this. No one can know… because as long as the locket is intact, the Dark Lord shall live. If he knows that we discovered his secret… he will come to punish our loved ones. I can’t risk Hermione’s life. Or Charlotte’s. Hell, everyone’s lives!”

“Kreacher shall be as silent as the grave,” the house elf promised solemnly. A moment later, his pointy ears dropped unexpectedly. “But what if… what if young Mistress starts asking questions? Master Regulus is in charge now. But when he’s gone… Kreacher can refuse to answer question of other family members but he cannot lie to the Head of House. Unborn Mistress Hermione’s next in line as is Master’s firstborn child, even though Mistress Charlotte’s going to be her Regent.”

Regulus’ heart sank, as he registered his companion’s words. Sweet Merlin. He didn’t think about it. How could this important detail skip his mind?...

“Then… well, then we must hope that nobody finds out that you were here with me, ever.” The wizard put the crystal goblet full of the potion on the edge of the basin and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling as something unpleasant turned out in his stomach. “Charlotte woke up before I was able to leave the room. She thought… she thought that I’ve been summoned. I… couldn’t tell her the truth. Merlin knows I couldn’t… so, if the cave turns out to be my downfall… she’ll believe that I was killed by _Him_. You know she despises the Death Eaters and my involvement, so she won’t try to contact any of them to find out the details…”

“And she will tell Mistress Hermione her version of the story,” concluded the creature, raising its head slightly.

Regulus smiled sadly in confirmation. He still had hope that he was going to survive the trip, but if it wasn’t in his destiny… yes. It was a good thing that Charlotte woke up before he left the bedroom. Otherwise, there was a chance that she would assume that he got cold feet and tried to run away getting himself killed in the process, and he would rather be remembered as a dirty Death Eater in his child’s eyes than a pathetic coward who was too scared to face parenthood.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” he agreed, taking a deep breath. “If you are unable to destroy the locket and the Dark Lord is still wracking havoc… or if my daughter starts having some questions surrounding my mysterious death… tell her the truth. But _only_ if she’s ready to face it. Can you promise me that?”

“I promise, Master,” came up the immediate answer.

“Thank you,” he responded and picked up the abandoned goblet. He swallowed nervously when he looked inside it. The content didn’t look very appealing. Green was one of his favourite colours but… not in this deadly form. “Kreacher… I have one last request for you.”

“Yes? How can Kreacher serve you, Master?” the creature asked quietly. Tears were still visible in his big, bright eyes.

“No matter what happens today… I want you to promise me that you won’t allow my daughter, my dearest Hermione, to commit the same mistake as I did,” he whispered, still staring into the goblet in his hands. “Don’t let her bow down before anyone. Not before the Dark Lord, if he’s still around, nor before anyone else. She’s the future Duke of Lancaster. She’s going to be the most powerful – politically – person on our side of the world. I should never have accepted his Dark Mark, but I was too foolish to realise that. Please, don’t let her make the same mistake.”

“Kreacher will keep Mistress Hermione safe,” the house elf promised solemnly. “Kreacher and other elves won’t let anyone hurt Master’s daughter, nor use her in any way. Kreacher shall punish harshly anyone who dares to cause harm to unborn Mistress! Kreacher swears this on his life!”

“Thank you, my dearest friend,” the young wizard whispered and blinked back tears that made an appearance in his eyes. Again. “I have no words to express my gratitude for your undying loyalty.”

Being aware that he couldn’t keep avoiding the inevitable, with a furiously beating heart Regulus raised the goblet to his mouths.

“That’s for you, Hermione,” he murmured into the object. His hands commenced shaking. “Have a good life, my child. I’m sorry for failing you, as a father.”

And before he could change his mind, he promptly drank the first cup.

The moment the emerald potion touched his tongue, the young Duke of Lancaster had a strange feeling that someone just set his poor organ on _fire_. His eyes shut almost immediately, as if he hoped that not seeing anything would make the unpleasant sensation go away. In vain. He swallowed the potion, not being able to keep it in his mouth for much longer. He almost bit off his tongue when he did that; the potion started burning his insides and he was unable to do anything about it.

_An unanticipated, bloodcurdling scream escaped Charlotte’s mouth, echoing around the almost emptied 12 Grimmauld Place, when a sudden burst of magic attacked her from the inside, waking her up from her peaceful sleep in the process._

Regulus coughed, fighting with the increasing pain; his eyes were still closed. Nonetheless, he forced himself to fill the crystal cup again. Now it was too late to change his mind. He had to finish what he started. So his former Master could be stopped. So his daughter could be raised peacefully.

He emptied the contents of the goblet. His whole body started trembling – more than it already did. An abrupt headache made him feel dizzy, fortunately his legs stayed strong. He wanted to vomit. Truth to be told, he wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he just did that, as something escaped his mouth against his will. With great difficulty, Regulus forced his uncooperative eyes to open. _Blood_. The ground was coloured in his blood.

“Fuck,” he whispered when he saw it, his voice full of pain. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be in his bed. Instead, he put the goblet in the basin again.

_With shaking hands, Charlotte forced herself to pull off the quilt. She felt hot. Both literally and figuratively. She had a feeling that someone started a bonfire in her stomach, wanting to burn her alive. With Fiendfyre. She had no idea what the reason of her unexpected condition was. She could only hope that her child was going to be okay. _

_“No…” That was all she could say, as fear paralysed her when she noticed that her light blue nightgown was covered in blood._

_“I heard scream, Mistress Charlotte!” Rinky appeared in the master bedroom as soon as he was sure that the kitchen wouldn’t burn down during his absence since he was in the middle of cooking breakfast. “Is Mistress Charlotte hurt?”_

_In response he received another bloodcurdling scream_.

The third portion of the potion made him weaker, he almost lost his footing. His head was killing him and even such an easy job as breathing became an unbearable task. Regulus gritted his teeth. He could do this. He _would_ do this. For his daughter’s sake.

The goblet found itself in the basin for the fourth time.

_Charlotte was struggling to catch her breath. It was as if some invisible force was squeezing her lungs, stealing her breath away. She had no idea what was happening to her. Was she giving birth? Or was she just having a miscarriage? She had no idea. But she was aware that it wasn’t normal. She screamed again. Even her voice sounded strange. Inhuman. She could barely hear the frantic house elf, nor could she see his fruitless efforts to help her. Her head was killing her. Maybe if she could close her eyes, then she would drift off…_

“I find this whole situation ironic.” Regulus heard a familiar voice once he swallowed the fourth portion of the emerald liquid. “A proud, pureblood wizard… the Dark Lord’s willing follower… a murderer… ended up drinking a blood of a Muggle-born wizard.”

Regulus forced himself to open his eyes. As he noticed, he was lying on the ground and his disowned brother was standing above him. A cruel smirk was present on the older Black’s lips.

“That’s… not anyone’s blood,” he answered with difficulty. “Doesn’t taste like blood.”

_Hallucinations_, the teenager realised. He knew that he would have them sooner or later. After all, he spent so many days re-watching Kreacher’s memories that he knew what was in store for him. Just like he knew that the only way to empty the basin was to drink the potion. While he was creating the fake locket, his house elf was looking for the way to safely banish the potion. Unfortunately, the only way to do that was to drink it. The liquid couldn’t be poured out, otherwise the whole basin would become full again, and an army of Inferi would rise from the lake surrounding the small island.

“No… it’s not, actually. I just wanted to see your reaction when you hear that,” Sirius agreed and sat down next to him. A moment later he offered him the goblet which was full. Again. “Here you go, little brother of mine. Be a good boy and drink it. Show me that you’re able to change. That there’s still hope for you.”

Regulus looked at his brother, having tears in his eyes. He was vaguely aware that his brother wasn’t really here; Sirius was probably causing mischief with James Potter and the rest of his band of friends, while trying to be a proper member of the Order of the Phoenix. The young Duke knew that it was Kreacher who gave him the potion but… he liked to think that Sirius was here with him. It was nice to have him back in his life. Even for a little while. Even if their meeting wasn’t real and the older wizard most likely still hated him with a burning passion.

_She couldn’t see anything. At first she thought that she lost her sight, but it turned out that her vision was blurred by tears. She would laugh if she could. She was certain that she has already cried an ocean of tears, but for some unknown for her reason the fire in her body was still very active. She wanted it to stop. Right now. Otherwise, she’d burn alive. _

“I’m sorry for being such a jerk,” he whispered. He was still on the ground but his head lay on his brother’s laps, and the older boy – a young _man_, in fact – was gently playing with his short hair. “You can’t even imagine how sorry I am for everything I have done.”

“Shh… you don’t have to say anything, Reggie. I’m here for you. Everything is going to be okay,” said his brother, smiling softly; he offered him a goblet again. “You’ll see. But now drink this and don’t think about anything. She’ll eventually come round.”

“Come round?” he asked, begrudgingly draining the contents of the cup. “Who are you talking about?”

“Me,” said an unfamiliar girlish voice. Nonetheless, Regulus’ heart stopped beating for a moment when he saw who it was.

_“It hurts… so much.” Charlotte panted through clenched teeth. She couldn’t move. Her body refused to cooperate with her no matter how much she tried to change her position, to see what Rinky was doing and – most importantly – to found out if her unborn child was safe._

_“Rinky knows,” the little creature called from… somewhere. She honestly wasn’t sure where he currently was. “Rinky does what he can to stop… Sweet Merlin!”_

_“What… is something wrong with my baby?!” She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but she finally forced herself to move. _Must be adrenaline, _she thought through pain. She still couldn’t see anything through her tears but she – at last – was able to locate her companion. He was cleaning her wound._

_“Young Mistress Hermione is a strong baby,” the creature reassured her and gently helped her lie back down. “But the situation is dire. Rinky can sense the shift in his allegiance – it transfers from Master Regulus onto the unborn Mistress.”_

_“No… this can’t be happening… if you can sense the shift in your allegiance then it means that – ”_

_“Master Regulus is dying as we speak, yes,” the house elf announced seriously, dropping his ears._

_Charlotte forgot how to breath when she heard that and with difficulty put her hands on her pregnant stomach. No. She refused to believe that. Rinky must have been wrong. He had to be!_

Regulus’ eyes opened widely when she saw a young girl with bushy brown hair and brown eyes. She couldn’t be older than eleven-years-old and yet she had a rather nasty cut on her right cheek. The young Duke swallowed loudly. Her voice had changed but he was certain that it was the older version of the child from his nightmare – the child that called him “Daddy.”

“Hermione.” The name escaped his mouth without his knowledge.

“That would be me,” she answered with a sneer. It was obvious that she didn’t want to be here – and _what_ his daughter was doing in his head in such a form… he had no idea. In the meantime Sirius – or was it still Kreacher? – forced him to drink another portion of the potion.

_“Make it stop!” Charlotte shouted as another wave of pain hit her body. It was getting worse with every passing moment. “Make it stop, please!”_

_“Rinky tries!” responded the house elf. _

_The creature worked hard to stop the bleeding. For some unknown for him reason, the young witch was bleeding from literally every hole she had possessed. Both ears, nostrils, mouth… but the worst was her vagina bleeding. In any other situation Rinky would blush furiously upon seeing his Mistress’ female parts of the body, but the situation was too serious to care about it now. Moreover, the house elf had no idea why his Mistress was bleeding like that. But whatever reason it was – he knew that wasn’t normal nor wasn’t it good for the witch._

“Are you proud of yourself now?” she asked him with such hatred that it made him sick. “You ruined out family. You broke Mother’s heart. She never recovered from what you did. If it wasn’t for Uncle Sirius… she would be already gone!”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he whispered. He had no idea what else he should say in such an unexpected situation. He knew it was just his imagination. He was a talented Occlumens, and knew how the potion worked thanks to Kreacher’s memories, so he had prepared himself. Still, his daughter’s behaviour – even though the girl wasn’t real – hurt him immensely.

“Don’t bother, _Father_,” said the little witch. “I don’t care what you have to say because I’ll _never_ forgive you!”

This time Sirius didn’t even have to ask him to empty the goblet. He did it as soon as he could. Because he couldn’t stand his daughter’s hatred and wanted it to end as soon as possible.

_“Please… stop. I can’t… no more!” Charlotte sobbed because the pain increased again. She clenched her hands on the quilt. “Please… take it away. Stop. Stop. I can’t…”_

_“Soon, Mistress,” Rinky reassured her… knowing that there was little he could do. His Mistress was in pain, screaming alternately in English and French, not even being aware of that. Furthermore, his bond with Master Regulus was getting weaker and weaker with every passing moment while the one with his unborn Mistress Hermione was getting stronger. “But now I need you to be strong. For your daughter. You cannot give up.”_

_“Daughter?” she asked him with confusion, but a small smile made an appearance on her pale, sweaty and covered in blood face. “I have a daughter?”_

_The creature winced at the question. It seemed that the pain made the witch forget that she was pregnant in the first place._

_“Yes, Mistress Charlotte,” responded Rinky. “A little girl named Hermione.”_

_“Hermione,” she said the name carefully. “Hermione… what a lovely name.”_

_A bloodcurdling scream once again escaped the girl’s throat. The house elf bit his bottom lip. He had an unpleasant feeling that he knew what was going to happen next and he really didn’t want it._

“How could you, _Father_?” Hermione began angrily as soon as he seventh portion stopped burning his throat. “How could you bow down before this monster? The Blacks never bow down before anyone! The Dark Mark on your forearm is the reason why our family is broken!”

“Hermione… I was young. Foolish,” he started quietly and with his silent brother’s help he slowly got up from the ground. “I made a mistake.”

“Uncle Sirius was also young and surrounded by people devoted to this beast, but somehow he was able to choose the right side of the war!” sneered the girl and rolled her eyes for good measure. “A young age is not an excuse.”

“No… of course not it’s not. You’re right.”

And with these words, he accepted the eight goblet of the potion.

_The young Duchess’ spine-chilling screams were echoing around the emptied 12 Grimmauld Place. Rinky was doing all he could to help his Mistress but he knew that there was nothing he could do to make the pain go away. He watched with fear as the witch’s stomach was literally ripped apart as if it was nothing but a piece of bread. The blonde was in terrible condition, even when he first arrived to the bedroom, and taking her to the hospital was out of the question, as Apparition would kill the child; no matter how bad it sounded, Rinky would always choose his unborn Mistress as the Black family magic required him to protect the future Head of House. At the same time, bringing someone else here was also impossible because once Master Regulus became the Patriarch, he changed the enchantments of the building – only people he invited on a given day could enter when he wasn’t around. He became quite paranoid in the last few months._

_Rinky wiped away the tears that began rolling down his face. His Mistress was dying a painful death and there was nothing he could do to help her. He already knew that she wouldn’t survive the birth – Magic itself was tearing her apart. All because, as he suspected, Master Regulus was dying and his successor wasn’t even born, which meant that Magic had to intervene. It seemed that the Heiress had to be born before the current Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black breathed his last breath. Why? Rinky wished he knew._

“I think we should go,” said Sirius when he handed him the crystal goblet, which was full again – for the ninth time – and waved towards Hermione to let her know that he wanted to talk with him alone. His daughter only nodded in response and disappeared as soon as she appeared. “She needs time. She’s still young and doesn’t fully understand the reason of your death.”

“I know… I just can’t stand the idea that I failed my only child like that,” he muttered into the crystal goblet. “I still can’t believe that I willingly joined the Death Eaters. I was a stupid fool.”

“You were,” Sirius agreed. “But now you’re different. You’ve changed. Just drink the potion and have hope that one day everything will be okay.”

Not being able to formulate a response, Regulus simply nodded and emptied the object. He coughed once he swallowed the contents and lost all strength in his legs; he didn’t fall down only because Sirius caught him in the very last moment and helped him to lie down.

“I’m tired, Sirius,” he said and shuddered. “So tired…”

“I know,” responded his brother and smiled slightly at him, before he pressed a gentle, almost forgiving, kiss on his sweaty forehead. Just like he used to do when they were younger and he was terrified of something. “Everything will be over soon. I promise, baby brother of mine.”

The young Duke of Lancaster nodded at that and closed his eyes for a brief moment, to blink his tiredness away. When he opened them again, Sirius was gone and Kreacher was applying him the ninth portion of the liquid. Soon everything should be over. He trusted his brother, even though he was nothing but a part of his imagination

_Rinky’s hands were shaking uncontrollably when he was picking up his young Mistress. She was covered in blood, her umbilical cord still intact. He swallowed because the child was silent – and as far as he knew, they should be crying – and cast traditional medical spells on her to check her health. He breathed a sigh of relief when everything was in order. His young Mistress was a strong and healthy baby, despite the conditions and situation in which she was delivered to the world._

_“Care… for her,” said Charlotte who was staring blankly at the little creature and her child. “Tell her… we… loved her. Much. Always.”_

_She closed the eyes before Rinky had a chance to react; they shall stay closed forever. At the same time, the date of death appeared next to her name on the Black family tapestry, the very same date that announced the birth of the Heiress of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black just a few moments ago – September the 19th, 1979._

“Charlotte.” Regulus screamed when he felt that he was released from his marital vow. But why? What happened? Could that mean… in the end there was only one reason for that to happen…

“Yes. Mistress Charlotte is gone.” Kreacher confirmed sadly, handing him the crystal goblet again. “But fortunately, Mistress Hermione is going to be okay. Kreacher can feel her. She’s a strong baby. Strong bond.”

“Not… as planned,” he panted. One more time breathing became an immense problem.

He wanted to say more. He wanted to express his disagreement, his disapproval. He wanted to scream. To scream that life was unfair for stealing his wife so unexpectedly. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Charlotte was meant to live a happy and _safe_ life with their daughter. She wasn’t supposed to die. She _couldn’t_ die. The Healer said that she was healthy during the last visit so _why_ did she die? Why _now_? He had no idea. And he was unable to say anything because his muscles refused to cooperate.

“The last one, Master,” Kreacher told him and helped him to direct the goblet towards his mouth and then swallow the liquid. “Then Kreacher shall switch the locket and take us home to young Mistress.”

Regulus shuddered once he drank the last portion of the potion. He was exhausted. And thirsty. So thirsty… he would like to drink something. Something cold. Oh, the water surrounding the island seemed to be just what he needed. Cold. Just like the Inferi that he knew were living there.

“No. Without me,” he whispered although speaking cost him a lot of energy. He was aware that he wouldn’t make it back to their home. He could feel the Patriarch’s powers – or, was it now Matriarch’s? – being transformed onto his daughter, and he was aware that Kreacher could feel it as well. There was no hope for him. He was already a dead man. “Take... locket. Try… destroy. Care for… Hermione. Sorry.”

“Master Regulus – ”

“Now. Order.”

Kreacher’s old arms embraced him tightly for the very last time. He didn’t see his face, but he could tell that his little friend was crying. They both were. A moment later the creature finally got up and went to follow the order. The wizard observed his ever faithful companion taking the Horcrux and hiding it safely inside his uniform’s pockets. He tried to smile but winced instead. Maybe his death wouldn’t go in vain.

When Kreacher was about to put the fake locket inside the basin, Regulus felt something cold and bony on his arm. An Inferius.

“Master!” Kreacher squealed when he noticed that they were under attack and with snap of his fingers the fire barrier appeared between them. Regulus’ attacker ran away as soon as possible.

“Go,” he said. He was so cold. So exhausted. And weak. If he would survive another two minutes, it would be a miracle. “Hermione.”

“I can’t leave you here, Master!” the house elf argued hotly and appeared next to him. “Not with them, not like that!”

“Just go,” he repeated and with great difficulty touched his companion hand. “Hermione… thank you.”

The old creature squeezed his hand, tears continued to run down his face, and then disappeared with a characteristic crack.

The fire stopped the moment Kreacher disappeared. The Inferi reassumed their attack immediately. Regulus could feel their hands on him. He could feel being dragged through the island… then he became wet. They dragged him into the water. How many of the Inferi were there? Hundreds? Thousands?... Regulus had no clue. He only knew that he was tired. So tired… he wanted to close his eyes. Only for a moment. Only for a short while… yes. He wanted to go back to sleep. Sleep seemed to be an amazing idea right now. So he closed his eyes.

And they stayed closed. Forever.

_Kreacher appeared in the master bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place a moment later. His whole body was shaking against his will. Tears were freely running down his face and he was in no shape to stop them. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted it. His dear Master Regulus stayed in the cave, alone with these foul creatures of darkness, and didn’t allow him to take him back. The house elf shuddered. Magic was beautiful but it could also be a dangerous force. There were some boundaries that shouldn’t have never been crossed. Creating Inferi was one of these things. It was a crime to profane a body. Even… even the ones that belonged to Muggles. Kreacher supported his Master’s plan wholeheartedly. The Dark Lord must be stopped no matter what._

_Kreacher wished he could return and help his dear Master… but even Master Regulus knew that there was not enough time left for him. There was no hope for him. No magic would save his life now._

_“Uncle?” Hearing his nephew’s voice, the old house elf turned towards its source. Rinky sat at the bottom edge of the bed and was holding a baby in his arms, cleaning it from its blood. Their Mistress Hermione. “Did you go with Master?”_

_“I did. Yes,” he answered and moved towards the furniture. A grimace made an appearance on his face when he noticed that the quilt was in blood; the blonde’s body was covered. “He wasn’t strong enough to make it back. He sent me away, so I didn’t have to watch his death.”_

_“What about his body?” asked Rinky and once the child was cleaned, he snapped his fingers to summon some clothes for her. “Are you going to take it back once… he’s gone?”_

_Kreacher shook his head and gently uncovered his dead Mistress’ body. He almost vomited when he saw its state._

_“No… there will be no body to bury once Master Regulus is dead,” he whispered, shuddering when he thought that his Master would be dragged into the water by the Inferi. Then he picked up a bowl of water and a cloth that Rinky summoned for him, and gently started cleaning the French witch’s body. “At least… he won’t be looking as bad as Mistress Charlotte.”_

_“That was brutal,” confessed Rinky and hugged the child protectively. “And there was nothing Rinky could do to help her. Rinky could feel that Magic started transferring Headship onto the yet unborn Mistress. Magic literally ripped Mistress Charlotte apart, so the child could be born before Master Regulus passed away. I just don’t know why.”_

_Kreacher opened his mouth to answer. To let his nephew know that it wasn’t his fault, that they were powerless in this situation. In fact, even he had no idea that Master Regulus’ death would have such unexpected consequences. He had lived for many years, he knew a lot about magic. He had seen many times how Headship had been passed from a parent onto their child. Nothing like that had ever happened. This was unique. That was the very first time when a child was becoming a Head of House when it was still unborn. They didn’t expect that. Master Regulus thought that Mistress Charlotte would serve as the child’s regent until she was old enough to accept the Headship – the youngest Head of House in the history of wizarding world was thirteen, if he remembered correctly._

_“I can only – ”_

_Before he had a chance to formulate his sentence, a rush of power hit the room. The child in Rinky’s arms started glowing a bright light. Kreacher had to cover his eyes. It was so bright. So… different. He could barely see a silver line that connected him with Mistress Hermione. The shift in power. Regulus Arcturus Black, Duke of Lancaster and the Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, had perished; just like in his wife’s case, the date of his death appeared next to his name on the family tapestry – September the 19th, 1979._

_“Magic declared her an adult…” Rinky said in awe, once the glowing disappeared, staring at the child; it was still silent. “She has… she has no regent. She is emancipated… How is that possible, Uncle? She was born less than ten minutes ago!”_

_“Mistress Charlotte is gone, too. I fear this must be the case,” he said, not really knowing what to think about all of this._

_“So… what are we going to do now, Uncle?” Rinky asked fearfully. He had a bad feeling about this whole situation._

_“Now? Now we’re going to do what we always do – we’re going to serve the new Head of the family,” he answered solemnly._

_There was a silence. Rinky looked at the sleeping child in his arms and then back at his Uncle._

_“The wizarding world is not going to like this…” the younger elf muttered. “The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is one of the most important Houses in the world. They shall want to take control over her.”_

_“Yes. They will come after her, I’m sure about it,” Kreacher agreed with his nephew. “Both sides of the war… They will want to take her powers for themselves, one way or another. That’s why, from this moment on, everyone is an enemy. Everyone is a potential threat for Mistress Hermione’s safety. We cannot trust anyone. Master Regulus made it clear that he doesn’t want his Heir to bow down before anyone. He didn’t want her to repeat his mistakes. We must fulfil his wish.”_

_“I shall die first before I let my Mistress be hurt!” Rinky declared hotly, gently swaying the child in her arms. “Rinky shall kill anyone who dares to harm Mistress Hermione, or he shall die trying to save his Mistress!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! It would be lovely to hear what you think. Hermione and Co. shall return in their own story - with the working title: The Black Princess.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. It would be lovely to hear your thoughts and I hope to see you here for chapter 2. It should be posted at the end of the week/at the beginning of the new one. You can also find me on tumblr. My username is unsqeakable.


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